


A Very Bad Idea

by Magicofisis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-10-09
Updated: 2005-10-09
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicofisis/pseuds/Magicofisis
Summary: Harry and Draco challenge each other to a drinking contest. Never underestimate your opponent.





	A Very Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Notes: I finally did it – my first ever H/D fic. Harry’s toast was swiped from The Godfather, Part II. Heartfelt thanks go out to my wonderful betas, Kate and Klave. Their enthusiastic comments were fantastic. You so totally rock! Kate couldn’t rip me enough the first time, so I made her take a second pass. Obviously, all remaining blunders are my own.

~*~*~

Despite the cool draft blowing through the corridors of the castle, Harry Potter could feel the pair of steely gray eyes burning into him. He was walking as quickly as he could back to Gryffindor Tower for some peace and quiet, and it annoyed him that someone seemed to be tracking him. Harry turned suddenly, causing the lithe form of Draco Malfoy to jump in surprise.

"Don't you have anything better to do than follow me around?" snapped Harry.

A grin crept across Draco's face as he moved closer to Harry. "Not really," he drawled. "Especially not now, since I know it's bothering you."

"Fine. Suit yourself," Harry said, turning on his heel to walk away.

He stopped when he heard Malfoy say, "I heard about your...shall we say... 'indiscretion' at the Gryffindor end-of-term party. Well, really, it's all over the school."

Harry faced Draco again, with his eyes narrowed in a threatening scowl. Good Lord, how long was it going to take to live that one down? Harry certainly hadn't expected the incident to be kept quiet. He had rather thought, since Malfoy hadn't brought it up yet, that maybe he hadn't heard about Harry’s ill-advised encounter with Colin Creevey. Harry sighed, "Give it a rest, Malfoy. In case you hadn't heard, I was drunk."

"But that's what makes it so interesting, Potter. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived and youngest Seeker in a century, is apparently such a nancy boy that he can't hold his liquor. You're pathetic, Potter." Draco's beady eyes glared at Harry as he sneered with obvious contempt.

"Nancy boy, my arse. I could drink you under the table any day, Malfoy, and twice on Sundays." Harry glared back. He was not about to let Malfoy intimidate him on _this_ point.

Draco laughed loudly. "Is that right? I'd like to see you try."

"I've got a bottle of Old Ogden's Firewhiskey upstairs that says I can," said Harry, instantly wiping the smirk off Malfoy's face. "Care to put your money where your big fat mouth is?"

"You're bluffing," Draco answered nervously. "We're not allowed, and anyway, I know you haven't been out of the castle."

It was Harry's turn to smirk as he replied, "Let's just say that a good friend gave it to me as a Christmas present. What's the matter, Malfoy? Are you afraid you're going to pass out before I do? Because you should be."

"I'm not worried about you outlasting me at all. I'm just concerned that you'll get so pissed, you'll try to snog _me_ like you did Creevey. The very idea of it is revolting."

Harry scanned Malfoy from head to toe. "I doubt even the Three Broomsticks has enough firewhiskey to get me drunk enough to find you attractive. So, then, are you game?"

Draco was quiet for a moment, weighing his chances. As far as he was concerned, Potter had already proven himself incapable of holding his liquor, while he, on the other hand, had been to more than a few of his own wild parties, and he had also been allowed to drink the finest brandy and cognac with his father on many occasions. And since Potter was all bone and muscle with hardly an extra pound of body fat, Draco was certain he was a lightweight. 

"Okay, Nancy Boy," Draco said finally. "You're on."

Harry nodded and started walking to the stairway. They were halfway up the stairs when Malfoy asked, "Where are we going to do this?"

"Gryffindor common room."

Draco spluttered in protest. "No way, Potter. You don't think I'm just going to sit in there and start drinking - people will see us!" he exclaimed, his brow furrowed with outrage.

Harry stopped walking and turned to face him. "Well, I'm not about to risk being caught in a classroom where we can get in trouble for being out-of-bounds as well as for drinking. And I've no doubt that if we do it in your common room, some Slytherin will try to assault me as soon as they think I can't defend myself. I'll wake up tomorrow naked and tied to a Quidditch goal post."

Draco smiled. Of course, Harry was totally correct on that assessment. "And what makes you think the Gryffindors won't do the same to me?" Malfoy asked accusingly.

Harry chuckled. "Because we're Gryffindors. We might take a picture of you doing something stupid and pass it around the school, but we'd never assault you. Besides, hardly anyone except me stayed for the holidays."

_Bloody honorable Gryffindors,_ thought Malfoy. Something about this plan struck him as a very bad idea. It wasn’t that he was worried about Potter out-drinking him – that was hardly a possibility. His father had threatened him quite openly that if he heard about any more confrontations with Potter, there would be hell to pay. But even Father couldn’t expect Draco to back down from a direct challenge from Potter; that would make him appear weak.

Harry continued up the stairs and Draco followed, reluctantly. When Harry whispered the password to the Fat Lady, the portrait swung open. He stepped aside as Malfoy entered the room, and watched with amusement as Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise at the warmth and inviting natural light shining through the tower windows. Harry had been in the Slytherin common room once - almost exactly five years ago, he realized - and he'd found it cold and dark and unfriendly. Harry prodded Malfoy gently before leading him to a dark corner where two squashy armchairs and a well-worn couch were arranged around a battered coffee table.

Draco sat nervously in one of the chairs while Harry ran up to his dormitory to get the firewhiskey. It had suddenly dawned on Draco that he was a school prefect, and what he was about to do was very much against the rules. Father had repeatedly warned him against raising the ire of Dumbledore this year. On the other hand, he was still smarting from his Quidditch loss to Potter last November, and here was a way that he could really exact some revenge. It was almost too perfect: his archenemy inviting him to drink his firewhiskey while leaving himself open to spill all kinds of valuable information. Draco was sure there would be plenty to interest his father, not to mention the potential for spreading embarrassing gossip about Potter to the whole school.

Harry appeared again carrying his book bag. He sat in the other armchair and pulled out two bottles of Old Ogden's Firewhiskey and two glass tumblers. "Hope you like it neat, because I haven't got anything to mix with it."

"You have two bottles? Potter, as a school prefect, I feel that I ought to report you to McGonagall for flagrant disobedience of the school rules," said Malfoy, hardly able to keep a straight face.

"Git," Harry laughed as he handed Malfoy a bottle and a glass. "As if McGonagall would believe you over me. By the time we're done here, you'll be pissing away all the evidence, and you’ll be in no condition to say anything to anyone. Besides, it would hardly come as a shock to McGonagall that I'm breaking a school rule. I've had a bit of practice over the years."

They each poured themselves a glass of firewhiskey, carefully hiding the bottles out of sight. The common room was deserted, so it was unlikely they would be disturbed, but they didn't want to risk drawing attention to themselves in case someone came in. Raising his glass, Harry said, "Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer." Draco raised his glass too, nodding at the sentiment, and they both drank.

The first swallow was tough going down, but the chilling spell Draco did on their glasses after that helped quite a bit. Soon, the alcohol numbed their throats, and they became accustomed to the taste. As they worked through their first glasses, they were quiet, curiously eyeing each other as they tried to assess their relative strengths versus the other. By the second drinks, however, their tongues loosened up and they settled into a sarcastic rapport.

Draco spoke first. "I'm having trouble understanding why you have not just one, but two bottles of firewhiskey. One might think you were setting out to be a bit of a sot, Potter."

Harry took a swallow of whiskey and replied, "My, er, friend gave them to me for Christmas. I sometimes have a little trouble falling asleep, so if I take a drink before bed, it calms me down."

Malfoy's stomach dropped – so much for Harry being a lightweight. "How often do you do this?" he asked tentatively.

Harry cast his eyes down to examine his fingernails. "Usually only one per night."

_Shit,_ thought Draco. _I'm dead._ "And no one knows about this?"

"I didn't say that," said Harry, looking up. "Certain people know, but they choose to look the other way." Harry wasn't about to admit to Malfoy that Dobby supplied him with alcohol on a regular basis in order to quiet the noise and anxiety that Voldemort pumped into his head most nights, presumably to keep Harry from sleeping. He was sure that Dumbledore was aware of the situation, since he seemed to know everything that went on in the castle, but until someone specifically told Harry not to do it, there was no way he was going to give up his nightly ritual.

"Professor Snape would go spare if he found out," said Draco. "He already thinks you get away with too much."

"I do," Harry quipped. "But really, it's Snape's fault for getting me turned on to the idea in the first place."

Draco's jaw dropped. "Snape gave you spirits?"

"Well, yeah," said Harry. He realized he shouldn't have said anything. Snape had given Harry a glass of brandy to calm his nerves after a particularly nasty Occlumency lesson in which he'd forced Harry to remember the senseless killing of Cedric and a good portion of his duel with the newly returned Voldemort. Harry had been so upset that he was visibly shaking; he'd even seen a flash of remorse from Snape as the Potions master handed him a hastily summoned glass of brandy. Seeing Malfoy staring at him incredulously, Harry continued, "He, er, kind of hexed me, and then felt bad about it so he gave me a brandy as a peace offering."

Draco was suspicious since this sounded like a very out-of-character thing for Snape to do. However desperately he might want to hex his students, Draco doubted Snape would ever lose control of himself long enough to cast one. But, if there was ever a student that could make Snape lose his cool, Harry Potter was definitely the one to do it. "Interesting," was all Draco said. He'd file this information away to use on Snape the next time he needed to wheedle a favor out of him.

"Now I want to ask you something," said Harry. "Do you actually _like_ spending time with Crabbe and Goyle?" He looked up to see whether Malfoy was insulted. To Harry's surprise, Malfoy was grinning, so he continued, "Because, well, they're a bit thick..."

Draco could hardly hold back his amusement. "Do you really think so?" he asked sarcastically. "Because I think Goyle's doing loads better now. He can almost write in complete sentences." He paused while Harry laughed. "Of course they're thick, you idiot. But they'll pound anyone into the ground that I ask them to and, besides, Father says I have to be nice to them." He swallowed the remainder of the whiskey in his glass and held it out while Harry poured another round.

Harry hid the bottle behind the armchair and sat up straight again. He noticed the sun was starting to set, and the light coming in through the arched windows had already dimmed considerably. "Are you saying that you don't consider them your friends?" Harry asked curiously. The idea that Malfoy could hold his two cronies in such low esteem was certainly a surprise.

"Of course they're my friends. It's just that they're hardly my equals. Not that I have many equals, mind you. But I need to have somebody around to help pass the time, and they're okay for that. It's kind of like having two very large house pets. As long as I take good care of them and help keep them from failing out of school, they remain very loyal to me. Surely even a Gryffindor can figure out that loyalty is everything." Draco took a large swig of whiskey and swallowed it in one gulp. He didn't like where this conversation was headed. He sure as hell didn't want to admit that he considered Potter to be one of his equals.

"That’s sort of pathetic," Harry said after he drained his glass. "And to think, you once offered to help me choose my friends."

Draco eyed him carefully as he also finished his drink. "I don’t think having Weasel and the Mudblood as your best friends is anything to brag about. Talk about pathetic…" Harry’s hand was grabbing Malfoy’s shirt collar before he could react. _Touchy, touchy,_ thought Draco, and he realized with distress that Potter had pretty good reflexes after three glasses of whiskey. 

Draco held up his hands in an unspoken apology and Harry let go of his shirt. The two eyed each other with contempt until Harry spat, "I’ll thank you not to insult my friends again."

"And I’ll thank you to keep your hands off me. I don’t know where they’ve been."

Harry’s anger surged, and then he let it go. "Wanker," he muttered, and reached over for the whiskey bottle to refill their glasses. Harry was frustrated with himself. He should not be letting Malfoy get to him. If he thought about it, Malfoy was no threat. Harry wasn’t even remotely tipsy, but he could see Malfoy’s gaze becoming a little unfocused. This night might be very interesting provided he was able to control his temper.

Conversation during their fourth glasses of whiskey was decidedly neutral. Draco spent quite a bit of time trying to convince Harry that it was much more important to understand the politics of the Ministry of Magic than it was to study for their NEWTs. He shared amusing anecdotes he’d heard about various departments, gossip over who was sleeping with whom at the Ministry and bragging about the influence his name still carried at the Ministry, despite the inconvenience of his father being sent to Azkaban last year.

"I still haven’t forgiven you for getting Father sent to Azkaban, Potter. It nearly ruined his life," said Draco, his irritation evident in his voice.

Harry’s jaw dropped. "Shit, Malfoy, you are so naïve. Do you really think it was my doing that got him sent there? Your beloved father stood inches from me and tried to kill me. I wasn’t the one casting Unforgivables." Malfoy blanched, and it was obvious to Harry that he’d never heard the whole story. "What did you think Death Eaters do – sit around and make idle threats? Your father is a murderer, Malfoy, and he was perfectly prepared to murder me. What I can’t believe is that they let him buy his way out of Azkaban."

Maybe it was the alcohol dulling his sense of reason, but Draco had never really thought of his father as a murderer. But Potter was right – that’s what Death Eaters did; he’d always known it. And he’d heard Father talk about "eliminating" Potter more than once. Not wanting to dwell on that fact, he gulped down some firewhiskey. Before he could stop himself, Draco said, "You must either be damn good or damn lucky to keep escaping."

Harry smiled. Was that admiration coming from Draco Malfoy? "I’m damn good _and_ damn lucky," replied Harry with a wink. He thought Malfoy looked a bit flustered, as if he was feeling at risk of losing the upper hand of the situation. Harry slammed down the rest of his drink in a silent challenge to Malfoy to do the same. He did.

"Where’s the loo, Potter?" Draco stood up and nearly fell backwards into his chair again. Shit, he had no idea that four glasses of firewhiskey was going to land him flat on his arse. He straightened up more slowly and took a few tentative steps, acutely aware that Potter was staring at him. "Well, tell me where it is, you ponce."

"I’ll take you there," answered Harry. "I don’t want you wandering about Gryffindor Tower by yourself. Besides," Harry said with a grin, "in your current state, I’m not sure you’d find your way back here."

Draco refused to acknowledge Harry’s comment and followed him toward the bathroom. He stopped short, though, when Harry went inside. "I don’t want you anywhere near me while I piss," said Draco indignantly.

Harry laughed. "What do you think I’m going to do? Watch? Yeah, that’d be great fun."

"I don’t want you in here when I don’t have my back to the wall." 

"Oh for God’s sake, Malfoy. The last thing I want to do is jump you. But if it makes you nervous, go in there," said Harry, waving toward the cubicle. How annoying: one ill-advised and unfortunately public encounter with Colin Creevey, and everyone was suddenly harping on about his sexuality. As if he didn’t have enough on his mind – shagging Draco Malfoy was the farthest thing from it.

Harry did his business and waited outside. He started to laugh when it took Malfoy three tries to open the door. Shit, this was going to be so easy. Malfoy was well on his way to getting pissed, and Harry merely felt comfortably relaxed. It seemed a shame to waste good liquor without having some fun at Malfoy’s expense. Harry needed to wait one more round, though, just to make sure Malfoy was drunk enough.

When they returned to the common room, Harry checked his watch before pouring two more drinks. Dinner would soon be over, and there was a chance that any of the handful of Gryffindor students who had stayed for the holidays would be returning. Harry pondered his best course of action, and decided to accelerate the speed at which they were drinking. After all, he’d need to get Malfoy back to the Slytherin dungeon before curfew, and that would take a while.

Draco was eyeing Potter with suspicion. He was definitely up to something; Draco could tell by the way a smile played at the corners of Potter’s mouth. Perhaps now would be a good time to start extracting useful information.

Draco leaned back in his chair and drawled in slightly slurred speech, "Potter, you said you were drunk the other night when you and – er – Creevey got friendly, but you haven’t actually denied that you’re queer. So which is it? Do you like girls or boys?" 

"Yes." 

Draco frowned. "Yes what?"

"I like girls or boys." _Like taking candy from a baby_ , thought Harry.

"No, wait…" Draco was getting confused now. "Do you mean you like either girls or boys, or both girls and boys?" He took a long drink while trying to work out Harry’s meaning.

Harry shifted in his chair so that he was very close to Malfoy, his emerald eyes locking on Malfoy’s gray ones. He smiled mischievously and raised one eyebrow. "Why do you want to know, Malfoy? Are you saying you’re…interested?" Harry reached over and gently ran one of his fingers across the back of Malfoy’s hand, all the while maintaining their eye contact. He smiled as Malfoy visibly shivered at his touch.

Draco took another swallow of firewhiskey and shook his head in an attempt to pull himself together. Shit, what did Potter just do to him? Was it some kind of spell? He glanced around and saw Potter’s wand sticking out of the pocket of his robe. "Of course I’m not interested," Draco replied. "It’s no secret that I prefer girls."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "Have you ever been with a boy?"

"No, certainly not," snapped Draco.

Harry grinned, "Then you can’t be positive, can you? Aren’t you even a little bit curious?"

Draco pulled away and studied Harry carefully. As Harry took a swallow of firewhiskey, Draco watched his neck, noticing the vibration of his Adam’s apple, and fixing his gaze finally on the hollow of his throat. Now that he was actually looking at what Harry had to offer, he was shocked to be actually considering what it would be like to kiss his nemesis. Dammit, this was wrong, but as the blood rushed to his groin, his body seemed to contradict his brain.

Harry noticed him staring, so he playfully licked his lips with the tip of his tongue and bit his lower lip. Noticeably uncomfortable, Draco took another large gulp from his glass. Harry reached over to put his empty glass on the coffee table and purposely brushed Draco’s knee as he pulled back his hand. When Draco shot him an accusatory look, Harry returned one that was decidedly lustful.

"The problem with Slytherins," said Harry with a throaty growl, "is that you’re always trying to label things. Purebloods or half bloods, gay or straight… You see, Malfoy, I like sex, and I tend not to get too caught up in the genders of my partners."

Draco was getting dizzy, staring into Harry’s eyes – beautiful green eyes. Harry reached out tentatively, lightly touching Draco’s cheek. Draco knew he shouldn’t allow Harry to touch him, yet he did nothing to push Harry away. Did Harry put something in his drink? No, he’d been watching the whole time. But for some reason, Draco seemed incapable of thinking coherently: how could he possibly be entertaining the thought of kissing Harry Potter?

"You _are_ curious, aren’t you?" Harry whispered conspiratorially.

Feeling put on the spot, Draco replied, "Seeing as how I’d never given it any thought before now, I’m not _that_ curious…." But he was lying, and they both knew it. He set his empty glass on the table and slumped back in his chair with closed eyes. The room was spinning a bit, but if he kept one foot on the floor he thought he’d be able to keep from throwing up. He wasn’t sure, but for the first time, Draco seriously considered the possibility that he might be drunk.

Harry leaned over Draco. In a quiet voice, he whispered, "You want to know what it’s like to kiss me, don’t you, Malfoy?" 

Without opening his eyes, Draco slurred, "Yesss."

"You want to kiss my lips, and run your hands all over my body, right? And I bet you’d like to feel just how hard I am. ‘Cause I’m very hard, Malfoy. Very hard for you."

Draco said nothing, but Harry noticed his breathing had sped up. Harry scanned Malfoy’s body and he could clearly see Malfoy’s excitement. He reached over and gently squeezed Draco’s cock, eliciting from him a loud moan of pleasure. "Mmmm, you’re hard too. Do you want me to stop?"

"Fuck, no," answered Draco. He wasn’t too coherent, but he did know that certain parts of his anatomy were definitely interested in continuing this line of thought with Potter.

Harry grinned, "Kiss me, then." Not wanting Harry to stop caressing him, Draco got up from his chair and settled himself on Harry’s lap. He wrapped his arms around the back of Harry’s neck and hesitantly offered a kiss. "Keep your eyes closed if it’s easier for you," said Harry. 

They continued in this manner for several minutes, Harry teasing Draco’s cock with light strokes through his trousers and Draco moving his attention from Harry’s lips to his earlobe and neck. Draco hardly noticed it when the portrait hole opened and two Gryffindor boys walked in.

Harry half-lifted Draco from his lap and helped him move to the other chair. "Hold on, Malfoy. A couple of boys just came in; I’ll try to make them go away. I’ll be right back."

Draco watched Harry approach the two boys and quietly converse with them. He couldn’t focus on them too well, and he didn’t know very many Gryffindors anyway. Damn, Potter had him so hot and bothered, that he couldn’t think straight. Draco held his fingertips up to his lips, which were irritated from prolonged contact with the slight stubble on Harry’s face. He saw Harry and the two boys turn towards him and he looked away quickly. He didn’t want those boys to notice he was lusting after Potter’s arse which, now that Potter had divested himself of his school robes, looked quite shapely in his form-fitting trousers. Shit, had he just thought that? Potter should be lusting after _his_ arse, not the other way around….

The two boys disappeared up the stairway to their dormitory. As Harry returned to the darkened corner, Draco clambered to his feet, swaying but still managing to keep upright. He grinned as he put an unsteady arm around Harry’s shoulders. "You’re lusting after my arse, aren’t you, Potter?" His drunken earnestness was priceless, and it was very difficult for Harry to keep a straight face.

"God, Malfoy, you know I am." Harry slid his hands down to Malfoy’s arse and pulled him close; they kissed deeply while grinding their hips into each other. Harry’s erection hardened considerably at the close contact, and Malfoy acted as though he was going to come in his pants at any moment. Harry spoke softly into his ear, "But what I really want – more than anything in the world – is to fuck your mouth. I want to feel your soft lips on me. Aren’t you curious to know what it’s like to give someone a blow job?"

Suddenly, it occurred to Draco that he really _did_ want to know what it was like. Plus, if he pulled down Potter’s trousers, he’d get to cop a feel of that sweet arse, too. "You’d let me do that?" asked Draco with a tone in his voice that sounded suspiciously like awe.

"If you want to, I’d really like that." _Shit, exactly how pissed is Malfoy to be grateful for the opportunity?_ thought Harry with amusement. With any luck he wouldn’t pass out for a little while longer. The next thing Harry knew, Malfoy was fumbling with Harry’s belt buckle. "Here, let me," he said, pushing Malfoy’s hand away.

"I can do it – I’m not drunk, you know."

Harry chuckled as Malfoy tried to focus well enough to grab at Harry’s belt again. Wanting very much to avoid a confrontation over his trousers, Harry unfastened them before Malfoy had the chance to make a second attempt. Seeing what Harry had done, Malfoy quickly pulled them down to Harry’s knees, followed immediately by his underwear.

"Fuck, Potter, you’re huge," Draco said, admiring the view. He slipped one hand around to Harry’s bare arse while grasping his exposed erection with the other.

Harry moaned at the touch. Oh, this was sweet, very sweet indeed. "With a mouth like yours, Malfoy, I’m sure you can handle it."

Draco laughed as if Harry had told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. "Good one." He pushed Harry onto the chair and knelt in front of him, his eyes focused on the prize in front of him. 

"Do you want me to tell you what to do?" breathed Harry.

Draco glared at him angrily. "I know what I’m doing, Potter. Malfoys hardly need any advice when it comes to sex, least of all from you. In fact, I’m going to give you the best damn blow job you’ve ever had!" And with that, he grabbed hold of Harry’s cock and engulfed it in the damp warmth of his mouth. Harry couldn’t hold back his moan. Even if it was Malfoy’s mouth, it felt damn good, and Harry wasn’t about to do anything to discourage him.

Draco licked, sucked and teased Harry with his mouth and right hand, while at the same time, gently stroking Harry’s balls with the left. He seemed to relish his task and was very pleased to hear the quiet moans and occasional gasps coming from Harry’s mouth. He could taste the saltiness of Harry’s pre-come mixed with the lingering flavor of the firewhiskey, and it made him dizzy with desire.

Harry’s breath sped up to a near frantic pace, and between gasps, he let Malfoy know that he couldn’t last much longer. This caused Draco to speed up even more, knowing that Harry was so close. In the split second before Harry came, Draco looked up with a smile across his face, resting the tip of his tongue on the head of Harry’s cock while gazing at Harry’s ethereal expression. There was a great flash of light right at that moment, and fortunately, Draco was still licking Harry’s cock but managed to point it away from his own face just in the nick of time. It was beautiful, watching Harry come – perhaps the most erotic thing Draco had ever seen.

"Bloody fucking hell!" exclaimed Harry when he could breathe again. "I don’t even want to know where you learned to do that."

Draco crawled up onto Harry’s chair and straddled his lap while he kissed Harry’s sweaty face and neck. He had done that: made the Boy Who Lived lose all control. "Say, Harry, do you always make the lights flash when you come? ‘Cause that was really strange."

Harry managed a weak smile and pulled Malfoy close again. "Never happened before. Must have been your Malfoy prowess." Knowing he’d have to address the situation eventually, Harry said, "So, then, do you want me to do it to you?"

Draco blushed. "No, I…uh… It’s taken care of."

"You came before I even touched you?" Harry was gleeful. He never dreamed he would be this lucky. "Here," he said, pointing his wand at Malfoy’s crotch. "Let me at least clean you up a bit." Before Malfoy could protest, Harry cast a gentle cleaning spell, first on Draco and then on himself.

"I think I need a drink," said Draco. "Pour me another one, would you?"

Harry obliged Malfoy with one more round, figuring it would only contribute to the colossal hangover that Malfoy would have in the morning. Harry felt fortunate that Dobby had thought to provide him with a hangover remedy, which he had no intention of sharing with Draco Malfoy.

A third-year girl emerged from the portrait hole as they were packing up the bottles (one empty and one full) and glasses into Harry’s bag. Harry hid it behind the chair in the corner and then carefully helped Malfoy onto his feet. The pathetic git could hardly stand. Harry was in no great shape himself, but it was clear that he was going to have to be the leader in navigating the journey back to the Slytherin dungeons. Placing Malfoy’s arm over his own shoulder and his arm around Malfoy’s waist, he managed to heave the boy to his feet and let the momentum of his stumbling carry him towards the portrait hole.

~*~*~

Severus Snape had just returned from a walk on the grounds and was heading back to his quarters when he heard a strange noise in the hallway up ahead. As he turned the corner, he stumbled upon Professor Dumbledore, who was gazing at the far end of the hallway with that maddening grin and annoying twinkle in his eyes.

_Show me the way to go home, I’m tired and I wanna go to bed…_

"What’s all this racket, Headmaster?" Snape asked. Was it…singing? Dear Merlin, no.

_I had a little drink about an hour ago, and it’s gone right to my head…_

Albus Dumbledore turned to him and said, "It appears some of our older students have gotten into a bit of Christmas cheer."

The two boys came closer, and Snape noticed that for each step forward they took two to either side, in effect moving slowly down the hallway in a zigzag motion.

_Everywhere I roam, over land or sea or foam…_

"Headmaster, you aren’t going to let this go unpunished, are you? They must have consumed an extraordinary amount of liquor for them not to notice you and me standing here," snarled Snape with irritation.

_You can always hear me singing this song…_

"On the contrary, Severus," replied Dumbledore. "I see it as a stunning display of the inter-house unity I’ve been working so hard to propagate."

_Show me the way to go, show me the way to go, show me the way to go home._

Dumbledore continued, "If you’d be so kind as to follow them at a distance and make sure that Mr. Malfoy gets safely to his dormitory, I will have a house-elf look after Mr. Potter." Snape made to protest, but Dumbledore raised a hand signaling to him that it would be pointless. "As a punishment, I suggest that you refrain from offering either of them a hangover or headache remedy in the morning. That ought to be sufficient, if I remember correctly from my more…carefree days." The infuriating twinkle was back, and Snape had no choice but to comply.

~*~*~

At breakfast on the first day of classes for the new term, Draco was holding court as usual at the Slytherin table, while Harry was hearing all about Ron’s and Hermione’s Christmas holidays. Their conversations were interrupted by the arrival of the owl post, and Harry noticed Hedwig out of the corner of his eye. Before flying over to Harry for a bit of toast, however, she first stopped at the Slytherin table and dropped a light brown envelope right onto Malfoy’s lap. Malfoy quickly snatched the letter out of the hands of Pansy Parkinson, who had grabbed it because she was dying to know what business Potter could possibly have with Draco.

"I’ll open it later," Draco mumbled. He didn’t know what the letter contained, but judging from the number of times Potter was glancing over at him, he wasn’t very optimistic.

Malfoy watched as Harry leaned over to Colin Creevey, who was sitting next to him, but he couldn’t hear Harry say, "It turned out well, mate. He’s going to be stunned when he opens it up. Thanks."

Nor could he hear Colin’s reply, "My pleasure. That Invisibility Cloak made all the difference, I think."

Draco abruptly swept out of the hall, still clutching the brown envelope in his hand. The curiosity was killing him, and he’d never last through Transfiguration with the letter unopened in his bag. He burst into the boys’ bathroom and locked himself in a cubicle. 

Carefully he tore open the envelope, which revealed a clean, new photograph. One glance told him more than he ever wanted to know. There he was, Draco Malfoy in all his pompous glory, with a huge grin on his face and the tip of his tongue unmistakably licking Harry Potter’s cock. He thought for a moment that he was going to be sick. He’d convinced himself that it was all a dream that he had once he returned to his dormitory in a drunken haze. But clearly, it was no dream. He stared with horror at the picture for a minute, watching himself bob up and down on Harry’s cock, sucking madly, and ending with that undignified smile while he licked the tip. Fuck. If there was a picture, then someone else must know…

Draco turned the picture over to return it to its envelope and noticed for the first time that there was a message scrawled across the back in messy black ink. "I won" was all it said.

__

finis


End file.
